Monday, February 29, 2016

Supernatural Friday-Sorry Three Days Late!-Cigarettes

Sorry this is late by three days for Supernatural Friday, but Mysticon was busy for me. This may hapen to me for Ravencon last Friday in April, so fair warning! Enjoy this original horror short story of mine. Please do not share the story, instead just share the link to your friends a nd relative to come read it here. It is my own story and copyrighted. Thanks again, and enjoy.

"Cigarettes"﻿

By

Pamela K. Kinney

The breathing in his lungs grew harsher as he ran and ran.
Damn it, it hurt to suck in air. He didn’t dare look over his should to see if
it still pursued him. After all, he might stumble over something and fall and
the thing would be able to get him. The night being so dark he wouldn’t see it,
not until it was in clawing distance anyway.

They warned his wife, Tillie and him, that some beast prowled
the area at night, mainly when the crescent moon hung low in the sky. For
months whatever it was, bayed long into the night as it prowled. Hearing it for
so long, he hated it. Hated that it kept him indoors at night. Hated that fear
of it ruled his and the town’s nights.
Tillie went to bed early those nights, but he stayed up until late,
after the sound had died away. When he came to bed, Tillie seem to have a
sexual appetite that rivaled none she had any other time during their marriage
of one year. She appeared to pay no heed that he obviously spent the night
smoking. The only time he applauded the creature stalking the woods nearby. It
made his wife even more . . . sensual.

The past month, there had been nothing. And he needed some
cigarettes. Bad enough that the shakes came over him and the craving dug deep
into him. He grew sharp at Tillie, who started to give him angry looks. Looks
she never had before. She bit back at him, like PMs had gotten control of her.
She told him not to go. After all, he could get the damned pack in the morning.
But he didn’t listen to her. After their worse argument ever, he stomped out
the door and to their car.

It hadn’t taken him long—just a half hour to drive to town to
the only gas station that stayed open until six at least. By the clock in the
dashboard, it was six.

The owner of the place was locking up when he screeched the
car to a stop. Would have locked the door and gotten into his own vehicle to
drive away if Jim hadn’t paid him an extra twenty just to remain open for five
more minutes to get his pack of cigarettes and pay for them. The man then
closed the place and zoomed out into the street and down it. Normally, a cop
would catch and ticket him, but since the killings, the police had more things
to worry about then some speeder. Which was why Jim himself could stamp on the
pedal for home. The only good thing; lack of cops and oh yeah, his horny wife.
Though the way they been duking it out the past few weeks, he doubted he would get
any tonight.

He had made about halfway home when the car broke down. He
cranked the engine. Nothing. Tried again. It didn’t even give a cough.

The ‘bitch’ finally gave up the ghost on him. He couldn’t
understand what the problem could be and it was too dark, with only a crescent
moon and a few straggling stars as his light, as he couldn’t find the
flashlight he swore he had put in the glove compartment anywhere in the
vehicle. He climbed out, kicked the door shut, and not even bothering to lock
it, trudged home.

There had been nothing for the first fifteen minutes of him
tramping on the road. Whatever had haunted the woods must have left after the
last death. A crescent moon mocked him from the sky and there’d always been
that kind of moon during the killings. He heard not one peep from the woods on
either side of him. The silence reassured him.

Jim remembered the terror that had filled the tiny town. That
some beast had caught and ravished, even partially eating, some pets, a horse
in a pasture, and fifteen people. . . What was that? He paused, and stared at
all the trees. Minutes before the night appeared harmless. Now the hulking
shadows that lined the road on both sides of the road had his heart hammering.
Though nothing moved.

Suddenly, the stillness bothered him. Sweat beaded on his
forehead and under his armpits, despite the chill in the air. Heart pounding,
he began to walk faster. Fear pushed him to break his stride into a jog. Not much for exercising, his legs protested
it.

A low growl came from the left of him.

Jim didn’t stop moving, but he turned to peer at the forest
that way. Nothing. A shadow detached
from the trees and stepped onto the road.

Shit!

He broke into a run. His legs screamed, but he ignored them
as a howl rent the air. An answering
prissy girl screams in his own ears.

God, was that him?

Yes, it was. He belted out into a flat-out run for his life.
For that was what he was doing; saving his skin.

He caught sight of a light. His house! The light glinted from
behind the curtain at one of the front room windows.

Thank God, if he got inside and locked the door behind him,
he’d be safe. Of course, he would give a call to the police and let them know
the thing that been killed all those people and pets wasn’t gone. Tomorrow, he
would tell his wife they need to love into town. Forget it, move some—

SMACK!

“Hell,” he cursed, “that hurts.”

Hurt? He felt sure that he’d broken his nose, running right
into his front door. He wondered why Tillie hadn’t opened the door and hissed
at him to get inside. But she hadn’t. What a time for her to go to bed. She had
nagged about him going out, that it was not safe to do so, but then, she
doesn’t even remain up until he made it back home, safe and sound.

Fumbling in his pockets, he found the pack of cigarettes that
had foolishly drawn him out tonight, a lighter, and nothing else. No wallet, no
keys.

Damn it—he must have left all his keys dangling from the
ignition in his dead car and the wallet on the seat. Dead car? If he didn’t get
inside, he might be dead as the junk heap. With a frantic hitch in his
breathing, he tried the door knob, but the door refused to open. A dumb idiot
to boot, he didn’t leave a key hidden outside, just in case. He darted over to
the front room windows, fumbling with them, but none would lift up so he could
climb inside. He got all way to the back. Put his hand on the knob of the back
door, knowing it was futile as the howling grew closer. Twisted. . .

The door creaked open.

Oh God, oh God! Jim bolted in and slammed the door shut behind him, locking
it and sliding the deadbolt home. He
backed away from the door, waiting for something to ram against it. When
nothing did and the howling cut off, he backpedaled through the doorway into
his living room. A light glowed from a lamp by the window and he switched it
off. No need to alert the thing outside of any presence in the home as it was.

God. Tillie. What
about his wife? He crept down the hallway, not turning on the light, and pushed
open the bedroom door.

He stood in the doorway. Strange. Even when she’d gotten mad
as soaked bear, she never shut the bedroom door on him. After what his life had
been like earlier, he needed a cigarette. He took one out of the pack with a
shaking hand, almost dropping it, but he didn’t and lit it, drawing the taste
into his mouth before he blew out a ring or two. Tillie would kill him for
smoking in their bedroom. With a shrug, he stepped inside. Heard the door
slammed shut behind him and he turned. He thought he saw a shadow, but he
couldn’t be sure.

“Tillie?”

A low growl that grew louder. His heart thumped like a rabbit
pursued by a fox as he sweated. He reached over to the lamp on the bedstead
near him. The light flooded the room, washing over what stood by the closed
door.

It looked like Tillie and yet, it didn’t. A mouth full of fangs too big for it, red
eyes and a flat nose, with Neanderthal brows hung over the features like a
hanging cliff. Claws like knives sprouted from her fingers and toes. Nude, she
felt no sexual want at her form, for raggedy fur scattered over her skin.

“I told you to stay home, but no, you had to feed your
addiction for smokes.” His wife's voice more growly and deep, and he
admitted it, downright frightening. “Mother said not to marry a human, but did
I listen? No. She said they were filthy, with their drinking and smoking. I
thought you were different. I fought my old urges. Even when I heard Mother’s
howls at night. Calling to me to come join her.” She shook her head and for a
minute, despite her horrible visage, she almost looked like the old Tillie he
had married. But only for a second as her face hardened. “Guess you can’t
change a human and not even a troll either. I am finding I can’t control my
need for raw human flesh just as you can’t stop smoking those nauseous cigarettes.

“Mother was right. Humans are only good for one thing. Food.
She told me to never marry what you eat.”

Jim screamed, the sound growing shriller as she leapt onto
him and bit his throat. His blood flowing and his fingers numbing, the burning butt
dropped from them into the rug below.

A fire lit in the fibers. It raged as she dragged him outside
to where another troll waited beneath a giant tree. Jim heard the screams of a
fire engine in the distance as both started gnawing on him. Or maybe it was his
own waning screams?

As darkness overcame him, he thought, Tillie always said smoking would kill me.

About Me

Pamela K. Kinney is a published author of horror, science fiction, fantasy, poetry, and nonfiction ghost books published by Schiffer Publishing. Her latest fiction includes short horror stories, "Donating" in Inhuman Magazine, Issue 5 December 2011 and "Bottled Spirits" (a Predator and Editor 2012 winner and a 2013 WSFA Small Press Award runner up), “Azathoth is Here" reprinted by Innsmouth Press in Innsmouth Magazine: Collected Issues 1-4 in Kindle and ePub formats, short dark fantasy, “Devil in the Details,” included in Harboring Secrets anthology and short horror story, “Let Demon Dogs Lie” released in Southern Haunt: Devils in the Darkness anthology March 2014, and coming soon, a fantasy short story, “Weregoat” in Strangely Funny II anthology. And of course, she has her horror and dark fantasy tales collection in print and download, Spectre Nightmares and Visitations, published by Under the Moon.
She also has done acting on stage and in films, is a Master Costumer, costuming since 1972, and she even does paranormal investigating, including for DVDs for Paranormal World Seekers, filmed by AVA Productions.